


Sound of Fury

by JinxxMarquette



Series: The Sound of Fury [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, BAMF Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Elf Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier is half elf, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Friendship, M/M, Part-Elf Jaskier | Dandelion, Yennefer and Jaskier bond over their idiot witcher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22654231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxxMarquette/pseuds/JinxxMarquette
Summary: “And what mistake was that, little bard?”Jaskier grinned a terrible, fierce smile, relishing in the growing fear on the bandit’s faces.“You underestimated me.”Bandits attack and with Geralt incapacitated Jaskier is forced to revisit a side of himself long buried away.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Sound of Fury [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765882
Comments: 117
Kudos: 1609
Collections: Best Geralt





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: This work was inspired by Not a Damsel, Not in Distress by   
> AvoidingAverage
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/53954722?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_280658173

There was a time that Jaskier would have just given up. There was a time where he would have had enough, and walked away without a care in the world as to the consequences for others, like he was trained to do. That time was before he met Geralt.

Oh Geralt, the world’s most surly Witcher, who was hard pressed to speak more than five words on a daily basis in favor of a complex language of hmms and grunts. A language that Jaskier thinks that he’s finally managed to decipher after more than a decade of travels. 

What an emotionally repressed loser. Melitele, he loved that idiot with his entire heart. 

A loud shout originating somewhere around his right brought Jaskier back to his present shit show of a situation. Bandits. Why the fuck was it always bandits? 

They had sprung out from the trees while they were packing up camp. At their most vulnerable, the last thing the bard and the witcher were expecting after a tiring monster hunt was more immediate danger. 

Usually, such occurrence would be no problem, but Geralt was already drained and injured from the stubborn selkiemore he had gutted mere hours ago, its blood still streaking his clothes. That, plus a low potion supply that he had been meaning to restock and ten bandits made for a horrible combination. 

Jaskier had immediately been grabbed by the arms by two bandits, dragged to the edge of the campsite against his vocal protests. 

Geralt, to his credit, had promptly flipped out relieved three bandits of their heads. But he was tired, and being tired and in battle never led to anything good, which meant he never saw the man behind him with the crossbow. 

Jaskier only had time for one panicked shout of “Geralt! Watch out-” before he received a whack to the head for his troubles and tasted blood on his tongue as a bolt ripped through his witcher’s stomach. 

Geralt fell to his knees at the impact, tipping over into the grass as a bandit got another lucky shot in while he was distracted. The bard heard an ungodly shriek and twisted around to see who in the clearing it had originated from. 

It was only him and the bandits and Jaskier realized that the sound of fury had come from himself. 

Jaskier didn’t think he had ever been more furious in his life. 

The bandits laughed, one of them kicking Geralt where he lay unconscious. 

How dare they touch his witcher. 

The bard decided right then and there that none of them would live. He still had an ace up his sleeve. 

In the commotion none of them had paid any mind to the helpless bard, assuming him too weak and pathetic to put up much of a fight. That would be their last mistake.

Jaskier observed the two bandits holding his arms out of the corners of his eyes. Their grip had gone slack in their victory and absentmindedly he could hear the ‘lead’ bandit gloating about the coin they would receive for the capture of a witcher.  
He still had the dagger gifted to him by Geralt in his boot, but there was no way he could reach it in time to use it on any of the bandits. He would have to rely on his hand to hand combat skills until he could reach it. 

Another glance told him the bandits were still distracted by their victory. Jaskier sent a quick prayer to any gods listening that it would be enough. 

Swiftly, he stomped his foot as hard as he could on the bandit to his left’s foot. At the man’s shout he thrust an elbow into his nose, transferring the force from his core like he had been taught a thousand times. There was a satisfying crunch as the bandit’s nose shattered. 

A rustling next to his ear alerted him to the bandit on his right and with an almost natural sense of grace he pivoted, ducking the swinging blade, and darting forward, jamming his fingers into the pressure point between the next and shoulder, sidestepping out of the way as the man went down.

He scooped up the bandit’s fallen sword, promptly dispatching him before he could rise again. 

Just then the bard heard a groan from the heap of witcher on the forest floor, watching with wide eyes as Geralt began to stir. A bolt of fear shot through him as he remembered the man with the crossbow hiding in the tree line and turned just in time to see him raising the bow and aiming at the witcher. 

Without a second’s thought Jaskier had his dagger in hand and was flinging it across the clearing with a practiced, deadly ease. 

There was only a desperate gurgle as his dagger seemed to sprout from the bandit’s throat and the hefty thump of the crossbow hitting the floor, the bandit not far behind. 

Now, four bandits remained, standing between Jaskier and Geralt. Now that just wouldn’t do. The bandit that appeared to have been in charge sneered at Jaskier.

“You got lucky little bard, but it’s four against one now. I had planned to just kill you here, but you’ve got a bite. Maybe you’d be better off if we sold you to some of our more distinguished friends. There’s a lot of people who would pay good money for the pretty likes of you”. 

Jaskier gritted his teeth, releasing the likes of a snarl that would give even Geralt a run for his money. He felt the fury bubbling up from his very soul. 

These bandits would have to die.

“First, you invade our camp. Then, you dared to touch my witcher. And let me tell you, that was quite a mistake, but it was far from your greatest one. In fact, it will be your final mistake.” The bandit laughed meanly, though Jaskier could see cracks beginning to form in his confident facade. 

“And what mistake was that, little bard?”

Jaskier grinned a terrible, fierce smile, relishing in the growing fear on the bandit’s faces. 

Gingerly he stepped forward, scooping up a sword from the side of one of the dead bandits. Raising it, he slipped into a form he had practiced a thousand times, the weight of the sword familiar, singing into his palms. He met the bandit’s eyes, expression steely and stone cold. 

“You underestimated me”.

Jaskier let his consciousness dissolve into the clanging of swords, his body taking over into a pattern of swift moments. Thrust, block, swing, repeat.  
One by one he cut down each bandit with dangerous precision. The fog of fury in his mind cleared as he twisted the word into the chest of the leader bandit, who choked on a final breath of blood. 

Jaskier felt the sticky cling of blood dripping down his face, and he wasn’t entirely sure if it was his own or one of the bandit’s. 

The rest of his clothes hadn’t been spared and he was streaked with blood and had tears in the fabric across his arms and chest. Fuck, he had really liked this outfit. 

Absentmindedly, he wiped his bloody hands on his pants. They were already ruined anyways. 

Bodies littered the ground where he had cut them down in his fury. Jaskier sighed, he had hoped he had finally escaped the bloodshed of his past, but he knew in his heart he was a fool to believe that would ever be true.

The bard’s thoughts were interrupted by a groan sounding across the clearing. Jaskier whipped his head around to the lump of black.

“Geralt!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier defeated the bandits. Now he's stuck in the woods with an injured Witcher and the world's best horse. Fuck.

The witcher laid splayed out on the forest floor, and Jaskier winced when he saw the crossbow bolt protruding from his stomach. He dropped to his knees beside Geralt and nervously skirted his fingers around where the wound was bleeding profusely. 

“Shit, shit, fuck, why did this have to happen in the middle of the fucking woods?” Jaskier exclaimed, tugging at the ends of his hair in frustration. 

He knew even just looking at the wound that it was serious. Not any of the remaining potions in Geralt’s bag would heal it, and wasn’t that just fantastic? 

He couldn’t cure Geralt. But he could certainly help to slow the bleeding. 

After fetching the needed supplies from one of Roach’s saddlebags, Jaskier used his admittedly small amount of first aid knowledge to patch the witcher up as best as he could. 

It pained him that he couldn’t remove the crossbow bolt, but Jaskier knew that pulling it out would only bring Geralt’s death even closer to realization. He cleaned the blood with a focus usually only devoted to his music, and hummed a tune in an attempt to take the edge off his increasingly frantic nerves. 

He couldn’t lose Geralt. He wouldn’t lose him. Not before he told him the truth.

Just as he was finished bandaging the wound in Geralt’s stomach, he heard another groan. The witcher’s eyes fluttered open to half mast, blurry with pain.

“Geralt? Geralt!” Jaskier smacked his cheeks in a desperate attempt to rouse the witcher, wrinkling his nose as he managed to smear blood across his face.

“Jaskier….?” Geralt asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

He lifted his head up and his eyes widened almost comically at the carnage around them. “What….happened?”

“I took care of it.” Jaskier said, firm. There was no fucking way he was willing to discuss this right now, especially with Geralt bleeding out before him. There would be a time for conversation. Right now, his job was to make sure Geralt lived to that other time.

The witcher opened his mouth, clearly to question the bard further, and Jaskier could see the exact moment Geralt noticed all of the blood covering Jaskier and his ruined clothes.

“Jask, where are you hurt? You idiot, you’re supposed to stay back-” Jaskier silenced him with a bold finger to his lips.

“Don’t worry dear witcher, it isn’t mine. I think. I hope.” He covered over his admittedly lackluster reassurance with a bright smile, the kind he reserved for tavern performances and palace balls. 

As usual, Geralt didn’t seem to buy it. 

But neither him nor Jaskier had the time to sit around debating, and how funny was it that the second that it was most inconvenient is when Geralt decides to get chatty? The bard stopped the witcher’s next words.

“I’m alright Geralt, the bandits are gone, but we need to go get you some help. You’re going to have to stand up though, because if there’s one thing for certain I am not going to be able to lift you.” 

The witcher still seemed to be half out of it, but present enough to understand what Jaskier was implying, and bestowed upon him a grunt of acknowledgment. 

Jaskier looked around the clearing, his hands fluttering trying to figure out their next move. 

“Okay, uh, we have to…” He had nothing. Then Roach, bless her beautiful, beautiful soul, seemed to get the hint and trudged over to where the pair resided on the ground. 

When she reached Geralt’s feet, she stretched downwards, bringing the saddle to a more accessible height.

“Oh you are going to be getting so many apples you brilliant girl!” Jaskier breathed out in amazement. What did he ever do to deserve Roach?

The bard took Geralt’s limp hand in his own and squeezed, capturing his hazy attention.

“Alright, so this is going to fucking suck, but we’ve got to get you up onto Roach. So, uh, baby steps?” He waited for a nod of confirmation from Geralt before he grasped both of his arms in his. The witcher’s brow deepened into a furrow as he steeled himself to rise.

“Three, two, one!” and Jaskier heaved Geralt forward, trying to ignore his shout of pain at the action. Shakily, and almost embarrassingly slowly, the pair worked through standing up. After a brief stumble, Jaskier somehow managed to situate Geralt in the saddle, where he immediately slumped, sweat dripping down his face and blood smearing his mouth from where he had been biting his lip to stifle his shouts. 

The bard sent up yet another prayer of thanks to whatever gods had allowed them to pack up their campsite before the attack, everything already tucked nicely into Roach’s saddlebags.

Swiftly, the bard jogged over to the other side of camp where his lute still lay forgotten against a tree. Jaskier scooped up his most beloved treasure and swung it to its usual resting place against his back.

He glanced toward where Roach now stood, hooves stomping impatiently as Geralt looked closer and closer to passing out, his face achieving a rather appalling pale shade. 

Jaskier had temporarily bandaged his wound, but it was far from healed. There was only one way to help the witcher and it would involve a substantial amount of magic, nothing like what Jaskier currently had access to.

He knew what he had to do. Or more importantly, who he had to go to.

Jaskier sighed, dragging a hand through his already frazzled mop of hair.

This was officially the worst day ever.

“Fucking Yennefer it is then”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote another one! All of the love for this fic so far has been amazing and I appreciate all of your comments so much!
> 
> Let me know your thoughts and suggestions for where the story goes next. What do you want to see?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer and Jaskier have to work together while their common interest is injured.

The trees blurred together in a wild haze of green as Roach galloped down the road. The sun was beginning to set, and Jaskier grit his teeth as they drew nearer to their destination.

Just a week ago they had encountered Yennefer taking advantage of yet another idiot royal falling victim to her charms. This was several towns over, and Jaskier could only pray (he was doing a lot of that lately, and he didn’t like it one bit) that she would still be there. And even if she was there, he’d have to convince her to help them, though he figured since Geralt was the injured one this time the witch would be a lot more willing.

Reaching down the bard secured Geralt’s arms around his waist as they began to slip. He was still unconscious, and Jaskier was more and more aware of the dwindling amount of time they had.

Jaskier had no clue how he managed it, but somehow he had wormed his way into a place in front of Geralt in the saddle so that they could move at a gallop. He had spent the past hour hoping against hope that Geralt wouldn’t fall off. 

So far, so good.

Over the tops of the trees Jaskier began to see the shape of a grand house take form, and he released a great sigh of relief. 

Minutes later, Roach’s hooves hit the cobblestones of the front entrance and came to an abrupt stop. She once again lowered herself to the ground, allowing Jaskier to leap off her mount and ever so gently, slide Geralt off the saddle and onto the stone.

He sprinted to the overly large front door and began to pound, ignoring the aches in his hands from the bandit encounter.

When he didn’t receive an immediate response at the door Jaskier took a step back and spotted an open window near the second level of the house. He took a deep breath and used his lungs to their fullest capacity in the general direction of the window,

“Yennefer! I know you’re in there and you have to come out right this instant! I know you don’t like me, but it’s Geralt and-”

He was interrupted by the door swinging open. Yennefer, in all of her perfectly curled hair and usual gorgeous dress glory stepped outside. Her annoyed expression was wiped from her face at the sight of Jaskier. And what a sight he must have been. Covered in blood and dirt, clothes torn, hair a mess and eyes wild.

“Jaskier,” Yennefer said, “What happened to you?”

“Never mind that” Jaskier replied, gesturing back towards Roach where Geralt lay at her feet, “Geralt is hurt, badly.” Yennefer gasped, hurrying over to the witcher’s side with Jaskier close behind.

“There were bandits, they attacked us at camp and one of them got him with a crossbow bolt in his stomach. I got us out of there and all I could think was to come to you, there’s so much blood, and he’s dying!” Jaskier gasped for breath, the panic of the situation finally catching up to him. He turned to Yennefer, meeting her gaze. “Can you help him?”

She ran her hands over the witcher’s abdomen, muttering something in Elder too low for Jaskier to hear. 

“I can help him, but it will be difficult. There must have been some kind of poison on the crossbow bolt, his body is working to clear his bloodstream and its slowly his other healing abilities.” 

Jaskier nodded, “How are we going to get him inside? He’s awfully heavy.”

Yennefer gave him a tight lipped smile that was more of a grimace than anything else.

“That’s what magic is for, bard.” With a wave of her hand she conjured a portal, while performing some complicated gesture with her other over Geralt’s body. “Come on, he should be lighter now so we can carry him in.”

Yennefer grabbed the witcher’s shoulders while Jaskier took his legs. On three, they lifted and the witch was right. Whatever she had done had temporarily relieved them of bearing most of Geralt’s weight. They staggered through the portal into one of the house’s bedrooms, and laid the witcher out on the great bed against the far wall. 

The witch turned towards Jaskier. 

“I think it's best if you wait outside while I do this.” Jaskier steeled himself. Yennefer must be out of her witchy mind if she thought he was leaving Geralt here alone, and he told her just that. 

The witch sighed and looked him in the eyes.

“Jaskier.” 

He blinked in surprise. Yennefer hardly ever called him by name, usually only referring to him as ‘bard’, even if they had gained a sort of rapport over the years.

“It’s going to take a lot to heal Geralt. It will be a lot easier if I am without distraction. Please.” Jaskier saw the truth in her eyes and relented.

“Okay, Just help him. I need him to be alright.” Yen nodded, and gestured towards the door.

“If you go down the hall, the second door on your left has a bath. It might help to wash away some of that blood and grime. I’ll drop off some clothes for you to wear as soon as I’m done.” 

Jaskier began to head to the door, and as he stepped farther and farther from the bed with his witcher he felt like he was leaving pieces of his heart behind. He was reaching for the door knob before he stopped, and turned back towards the witch. 

“Thank you for helping, Yennefer.” He said it with the most sincerity he had ever used in Yen’s presence, and he wanted her to know just how grateful he was.

The witch paused from where she was bending over Geralt. While the worried look from before remained, a softness reached her eyes that he had never seen directed towards him.

“Of course.”

After one more moment where unspoken words of mutual desperation and trust were exchanged, Jaskier left the room and headed to the bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done! Thank you again for all of your wonderful comments, your encouragement keeps this story going! 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts and suggestions for the next chapter. I'm thinking of doing a Geralt pov very soon to get his take on everything...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier is an idiot coming off of an adrenaline rush, and learns one must never let their guard down around Yennefer.

The bath was well needed, and Jaskier scrubbed his skin until it felt raw trying to clean the blood staining his arms and legs. He found the clothes left for him by Yennefer,and he almost moaned in relief at the sensation of soft, clean clothes.

As Jaskier was leaving the room, he stumbled and grabbed the door frame as a wave of dizziness overtook him. After a moment it passed, and Jaskier chalked it up to the overexertion his body was feeling from the bandit encounter.

There was no sign of Yennefer as he walked through the halls, she was probably still working on healing Geralt. 

In an effort to distract himself from descending into a spiral of frustration over his helplessness, Jaskier wandered outside to take care of Roach. She had been completely forgotten in the haze of panic and the poor horse still stood outside the front door in full tack.

Jaskier whispered a quiet apology to her and Roach butted his chest affectionately. She understood. He led her around the house where he spotted a small barn left from the previous homeowners.

It was there that he took care of Roach, removing her saddle and making sure she was fed and watered. After a lengthy brushing, Jaskier made his way back towards the house.

Walking down the hall, he picked a door at random feeling a sense of relief when it opened into a sitting room. 

He started to make a beeline for the couch when the dizziness from earlier made a comeback. Jaskier stumbled forward as he became increasingly aware of a pounding in his head, previously thought to just be a headache. 

His brows furrowed. Jaskier’s forehead was….. Wet? His fingers drifted upward and when they came down, they were coated in red. Blood? Jaskier guessed he had been injured in the fight afterall, but the adrenaline rush had kept him from noticing until now.

Jaskier was deciding on what to do next when Yen came striding through the door.

“Jaskier! Geralt is going to be okay, I managed to close the wounds and eliminate the poison from his veins. All he has to do is sleep for a few hours and-” She cut herself off, finally noticing his odd position in the room.

Jaskier was turned, eyes wide as if he was caught in a forbidden position. Yennefer’s violet eyes moved from his shocked expression to his hand, still dripping with his own blood. They narrowed.

“Jaskier, what happened?” She strode towards him, hands gripping his shoulders and guiding him to sit on a nearby couch that was definitely too expensive to be getting his blood on.

“I- I don’t know,” Jaskier stammered, “I didn’t think I was hurt but then I started feeling dizzy and now, as you’ve seen I’m bleeding and I just don’t know how I didn’t notice, but I’m sure it’s fine, you should be helping Geralt, not me-” Yennefer cut him off with a flick to his ear.

“Quit your rambling, you fool. Geralt is as fine as he can be right now, let me get a look at you.” She poked and prodded at his hair, pulling back his hair to observe the cut twisting around the corner of his eye towards his hairline. 

“There was just so much blood earlier, I couldn’t tell if it was mine, and how wrong was I?” Jaskier laughed, wincing as Yennefer poked once more at the gash.

“Adrenaline rushes often trick the body into ignoring pains. This cut is rather deep, I think it’ll need stitches.”

“Stitches?” Jaskier wrinkled his nose, “Can’t you do your whole,” he wiggled his fingers in an imitation of spellcasting that he knew would annoy Yennefer. 

Not taking the bait, the witch sighed.

“Unfortunately, I’ve just used a great deal of magic to heal your witcher. For now, we’ll have to fix you up the human way.” Jaskier groaned, he hated getting stitches.

“If you must.” He said, quite graciously in his opinion. The bard’s fingers found their way to the bracelet fastened around his left wrist. His usual source of comfort, the bracelet had been a gift from his mother, and he never took it off. He couldn’t take it off. Not without revealing what he had worked too hard to keep hidden.

While he was lost in his thoughts Yennefer had gathered the needed tools to stitch his wound. She thrust a muddy brown potion into his hand, gesturing for him to drink it.

“For the pain.” was all she said to him. Jaskier thought of all of the other nasty things it could be, like poison. The aching in his head was steadily increasing and he watched with growing dread as Yennefer threaded a needle. 

Well, if I die, I die. He downed the potion with nothing more than a muttered,

“Bottoms up” and almost gagged at the rancid taste. He opened his mouth to complain, but when the pain head started to dissipate immediately, he decided for once it was better to keep silent.

Yennefer guided him into a reclining position, her expression turning into one of utter concentration as she bent over him. 

Jaskier couldn’t watch. He jammed his eyes closed, and marveled at the odd sensation of the needle and thread dragging through his skin as the pain was numbed. Uncomfortable, but not unbearable. 

Jaskier drifted in and out as Yennefer worked. This growing trust between them was odd. Odd, but not unwelcome. Yennefer was a bitch at times, but it would be pretty cool to have a witch on his side.

He was startled by a hand squeezing his shoulder, blue eyes fluttering open to meet violet.

“All done.” Yennefer said. Jaskier took a moment to observe the witch. Her hair was a mess, blood crusted by her face, and her pallor was paler than usual. Healing Geralt really had taken it out of her. Jaskier placed a hand on top of the one resting on his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“Wow,” Yennefer’s eyes sparkled, “Two thank yous in one day. This might be a record for us.” Jaskier rolled his eyes,

“Don’t get used to it. But I do mean it. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

“Probably died from blood loss, but I supposed life would be awfully dull without you two idiots constantly running to me for assistance” Yennefer teased, an actual smile chasing the corners of her lips.

“I take offense to that!” Jaskier scoffed, still twisting his bracelet around his fingers. For a brief second he saw Yennefer’s eyes drawn down to the movement, but they moved back to his quickly enough. “Geralt’s going to be okay though?”

Yennefer rolled her eyes, “He’ll be fine, he just needs to sleep for a couple of hours.” 

Jaskier felt his body practically deflate in relief. He should have known better though because when one was around Yennefer, one was never allowed to relax. He glanced up as the witch shifted forward in her perch on the couch, so that her elbows touched her knees. She reached out and lightly grasped his wrist, fingering his bracelet.

“That just means we’ll have plenty of time to discuss why a simple, human bard such as yourself requires such a powerful glamour on his person.” 

Jaskier’s heart stopped. 

Fucking Yennefer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier is really fucking stupid. It's fine.

Jaskier decided to play dumb.

“Glamour?” He laughed, feeling slightly manic. “What glamour?” 

Wait. Too dumb. Yen only raised her eyebrows. Of course a witch as powerful as Yennefer would be able to sense his glamour’s existence, especially so close. 

Jaskier felt the walls closing in on him. He’d never told anyone his secret. He’d never even taken off his glamour in front of anyone else. The bard looked to the door, if he ran now there was a chance he could make it out of the room. If he managed to navigate his way down the maze of hallways he could make it out of the house, down to the road and- then what? Leave Geralt? Abandon him? Leave everything that had made him happy for the first time in his life?

Jaskier looked into Yennefer’s eyes. They hadn’t always gotten along, but the bard had to admit she had become a friend. A shockingly close one. She deserved the truth, not him running away. Some part of him whispered that she would understand. Jaskier took a deep breath.

“I mean yes, there’s a glamour.” Yennefer narrowed her eyes in curiosity. 

“What need do you have for a glamour? Unless you have some very nasty scars you haven’t told anyone about.” 

Jaskier could feel his heart beating rapid fire in his chest, and anxious fingers fiddled with his bracelet.

“Glamours are good for hiding things you don’t want others to see. To protect you.”

Yennefer leaned forward, strands of dark hair falling across her face.

“And what could a human with a pet witcher possibly need protecting from?”

Jaskier closed his eyes, collecting himself. His chest was tight and he felt as if he couldn’t breath. This was it, it was now or never. He opened his eyes.

“Maybe from the fact that I’m not actually that human.”

Yennefer’s eyes widened with shock, leaning back on the couch. She chuckled,

“Now that’s something I can’t say I saw coming. You play the part well.”

Jaskier grimaced, “I’m not always playing a part. I never lied about who I am, just…. What I am.” Yennefer tilted her head to the side.

“And what exactly are you?”

Jaskier lifted the arm his bracelet was fastened to, shaking it a bit.

“Why don’t I just show you?”

His fingers trembled as he clumsily undid the leather knot. He slid the bracelet off and a tingling sensation washed over his body. Jaskier knew what was happening. His ears became slightly more pointed, not the full ear of an elf, but enough that the tips were unmistakable. His cheekbones sharpened and his eyes became an even brighter and almost unnatural shade of blue. A few years lifted off his face and his skin almost seemed to glow in it’s ivory pallor, as if lit from within.

Yennefer started, her mouth caught half open as she watched the changes upon his face.

“You’re an elf” she breathed, almost too quiet for him to hear.

“Half-elf actually,” He replied, running his fingers through his hair, becoming more and more aware of her relentless staring. “I’m not 100% sure of the other, I’ve always assumed it was human.”

Yennefer remained speechless, she seemed deep in thought, which prompted Jaskier and all of his nervous energy to keep rambling on.

“My mother gave me the glamour, or at least she gave the people who raised me it. I was instructed to never take it off or something bad would happen to me. I grew up terrified somebody would find out, I got kicked around by others enough, and even after I got older and left on my own it’s been such a habit to hide who I am it was so hard to stop, and then it had been so long I didn’t think I’d ever be able to tell the truth-”

Jaskier was stopped by hands clasping his own, drawing him to a stop. His eyes shot up, meeting the deep purple of Yennefer’s, which were filled with steely determination.

“Now what did I say earlier about not rambling?” What was normally a playful jab from Yen was gentle. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, “it’s a bad habit. I’m nervous.” 

Yen’s thumbs stroked his wrists in what appeared to be a comforting manner, her eyes held contact with his and when she spoke it was with utter certainty.

“It’s okay, Jaskier. I understand.” 

What the fuck does that mean?

“W-what?” Jaskier stuttered, at the height of confusion. Shouldn’t Yennefer be yelling, raging, threatening to tell Geralt he’s been lying the entire time they’d known each other?

Yennefer took a deep breath as if steeling herself, her eyes staring into his very soul.

“I understand,” She begin, as carefully and delicately as Jaskier mere moments ago, “because I’m also half-elf.”

Jaskier’s mind short-circuited. 

“What?” he whispered, “Are you joking?”

Yennefer laughed mirthlessly, “No” she stated, “I’m not.”

Jaskier felt like he would burst into tears, and he blinked furiously.

“I’ve never met anyone else like me. I thought I was all alone.”

Even through his slightly blurry vision, the bard thought Yennefer’s eyes looked a little wet themselves. The hands holding his squeezed tighter.

“Neither have I.” Yennefer admitted, and the bard felt a few tears break loose and drip down his cheeks. He was overwhelmed with emotion. Jaskier had spent his entire life feeling so very alone, and even though he had Geralt, and Roach, and sometimes Yennefer, he had never had anyone else who was just like him. 

“Yennefer,” Jaskier choked through his tears, feeling embarrassed for being so visibly affected but not quite finding it within himself to care, “Is this the part where we’re allowed to hug?”

The laugh Yennefer let out sounded much more genuine then her last, and was distinctly more wet.

“I suppose I can allow it this once.”

Jaskier hardly needed any more prompting and flung his arms around Yennefer’s shoulders, feeling her go stiff for a moment before her arm wrapped around him in turn. He felt bad that he was leaving a wet spot of tears on her lovely dress, but he could feel her own forming on his shoulder in turn.

It was a nice hug. It was a great hug. Two people who had been very alone were not any longer, and Jaskier allowed himself to drift away in the moment. Yennefer was a fool if she thought this was a one-time occurence. Now that she had let the bard hug her, he’d never stop. She’d get used to it though. Geralt had made the same mistake once and now Jaskier didn’t think he minded all that much. Not that he cared whether he did or didn’t. 

Just as he felt the tears began to dry, there was a loud thump from upstairs, following by a low string of curses. 

The witch and the bard pulled apart, a knowing glance passing between them.

Geralt was awake.

Yennefer extracted herself from the couch, handing Jaskier his bracelet that had fallen to the ground and offered him a smile.

“You stay here and rest, Jaskier. I’ll go see what mess he’s gotten himself into already.”

As Jaskier made a noise of protest, Yen reached out and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, an unusual but not unwelcome gesture from the witch.

“I’ll come get you as soon as he asks for you, which I’m sure will be almost immediately. I just want to make sure I got the remainder of the poison out of Geralt’s bloodstream before he’s up and about.”

Jaskier sighed, he knew Yen was right.

“Fine, but you promise you’ll come and get me soon?”

Yennefer smiled once more, “I promise.”

He watched her waltz out the door, hands trying to sort out the frazzled mess her hair at become throughout the day. Suddenly he felt so very tired. Jaskier laid back on the couch, his legs dangling over the edge as he refastened his bracelet, feeling the glamour extend once more. 

Jaskier’s eyes traced the wood boards of the ceiling and tried to get his racing thoughts under control. 

Yennefer knew his secret. She knew, and she understood, and she had one too. 

Yennefer knew his secret, but Geralt didn’t, and Geralt was awake upstairs and soon he’d have to go face him and try and figure out how the hell he was supposed to explain how he took down a group of bandits single handedly. 

What was he going to do?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt wakes up, and reunites with Jaskier. Jaskier tries to come clean, but gets Exposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Apologies for the long wait for an update, everything has been crazy with school and I struggled to find the motivation to write. Enjoy!

When Geralt woke, he was surprised at the lack of pain.

His body ached all over, but it was nothing compared to the sharp stabbing pains and woozieness of blood loss that he had felt before passing out.

Passing out…. Passing out during a bandit attack while Jaskier had stood across the clearing being restrained, his face pale and panicked.

Geralt sat up suddenly, barely taking a moment to register the pain in his chest. He was in a room, fancy and overdone and much nicer than any inn he had ever stayed in.

He was in a room, alone. No bard in sight. Where the hell was Jaskier?

The last moments he saw him flashed in front of his eyes, pale, drawn, shouting his name. Geralt had a faint memory of afterwards, of Jaskier looming over him covered in blood, packing his wounds and hoisting him on top of Roach.

Everything after that was unclear. What had happened? How had they gotten away from the bandits? And where the absolute hell was Jaskier?

Fear for the bard’s safety gripped his stone cold Witcher heart. Geralt froze when he glanced in the corner of the room and saw Jaskier’s lute propped up on the chair. He began to relax slowly, Jaskier was here, but as he inhaled he caught the distinct smell of blood on the wood and the panic returned.

He had to find Jaskier.

In a distinctly ungraceful move Geralt scrambled to stand up, managing to knock the contents of the bedside table to the floor and cursing loudly. He spotted his boots nearby and was in the process of stuffing them on his feet when he heard footsteps getting closer.

Geralt was searching around the room for any sort of weapon when he caught the scent of lilacs and gooseberries. Yennefer.

The witch entered the room without any bother of knocking, no doubt having been alerted to his awakening due to the witcher’s clumsiness.

“Geralt!” Yennefer called, rolling her eyes at his frazzled state, boots in hand. “What the hell are you doing up? Sit back down you idiot before you pass out.”

Geralt ignored her words in favor of a more important goal.

“Where is Jaskier?”

Yennefer snorted, pushing the witcher back down onto the bed none too gently, 

“Your bard is fine. He was the one who brought you here, almost dead on my doorstep, you really ought to be thanking him, otherwise you’d be six feet under right now.”

Geralt didn’t have time to make conversation, he needed to see Jaskier with his own eyes.

“Where is he?”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “He’s just downstairs. I made him wait to come in until I had checked to make sure you were properly on the road to recovery.” She waved her hands about his body, seemingly scrutinizing something he couldn’t see. “It appears the poison has worked its way out of your bloodstream, and your other wounds are on their way to healing. That however does not mean you should be getting out of bed quite yet. Do you understand me Geralt?”

Yennefer’s gaze was stern and unyielding, waiting for an answer. Geralt grunted in affirmation which seemed to satisfy Yennefer enough for the moment. She stood swiftly, wiping her hands on her dress.

“Lovely. Now shall I go fetch the bard, or would you rather I leave you alone?”

The witch asked the question like she didn’t already know exactly what the witcher would say. Geralt gritted his teeth, knowing the witch wouldn’t do a thing unless he vocalized the words himself. 

“Get Jaskier.”

Yennfer’s sly smile mocked him as she slid out the door. Damn witches.

____________

Jaskier’s hands trembled with nervous energy as he approached the bedroom door. Yennefer had already told him he was being ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. 

He had no idea what Geralt was going to say when he told him what happened. Was he going to be angry that Jaskier had forced him to save him time and time again when he could have defended himself? All of that time wasted on a stupid secretly not-so-human bard with a knack for getting into unnecessary trouble.

Geralt had invited him to go to Kaer Mohren this winter. Would he even want him to go anymore. He might not be able to trust Jaskier anymore after he finds out the bard has been lying to him. 

Jaskier felt tears form in his eyes at the thought of Geralt no longer wanting to be friends. What would he even do now?

He shook his head, forcing the frantic thoughts away. All that mattered was if Geralt was okay. He could deal with the rest later.

The bard reached out to twist the doorknob, and as the door opened he felt himself begin to spiral once more.

But the second he stepped in the room everything else faded away. Because there was Geralt, white hair tousled and knotted, sitting on the grand bed. The second Jaskier entered the room Geralt turned towards him.

Golden eyes met blue and Jaskier was shocked to see the lingering frantic look in them that turned to relief as soon as he saw the bard. 

“Geralt” Jaskier burst out, desperation and relief coloring his voice.

“Jaskier” Geralt replied, sounding much the same.

All of the sudden Jaskier found himself stumbling forward, needing to get close to his witcher and fast. All of the worry and panic of the last few hours was catching up with him and he needed Geralt solid and real beneath his hands.

The witcher seemed to be on a similar wavelength because Geralt opened his arms without a word as the bard approached.

Jaskier melted into them and everything was right in the world.

He shoved his face into Geralt’s neck, trying to get as close as possible, and felt Geralt’s own nose burying into his hair.

Time stretched out meaninglessly as they sat there in each other’s arms. Finally, Jaskier found the strength to form words. He pulled back, not completely out of the embrace but enough to see Geralt’s face.

“I thought you were going to die. There was so much blood, and then the crossbow bolts were poisoned, and you passed out, and I wasn’t sure you were going to make it at all.” He felt a tear drip down his cheek as he was reminded of just how terrified he had been for the witcher.

Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat as a calloused thumb reached out and wiped his tears away. He could see the struggle in the witcher’s eyes as he sought for words to speak, and oh how that made Jaskier love him even more when he saw how much he tried for the bard’s sake.

When Geralt spoke it was slow and purposeful, “I’m okay now Jaskier. Thanks to you.” he paused, gathering his thoughts, “When I woke up. I didn’t see you. I didn’t see you, but I saw your lute and it smelled like blood and I thought something had happened to you.”

Jaskier could see the pain in Geralt’s eyes so similar to the worry of his own and he understood. He reached up and placed a hand over the one that remained on his cheek.

“I’m still here.”

They sat in silence for a moment, relaxing as the tension and worry faded from the room. 

Of course that was when Geralt had to actually get observant and ruin it.

All of the sudden the witcher’s spine stiffened, his eyes narrowing, and his voice growling.

“Jaskier,” Geralt’s eyes directed themselves towards his forehead.

Shit. Jaskier had hoped that Geralt would be too exhausted from everything that he maybe wouldn’t notice the wound on his head. It appeared that Jaskier was also an idiot.

So he decided to play dumb.

“Yes Geralt?”

Geralt did not agree with this.

“Jaskier,” the growl more pronounced. “What the fuck happened to your head?”

A little known fact about Geralt that he would absolutely 100% never admit to, is that he was a complete worrywart. A total mother hen. When someone he cared about got injured his already short temper got ignited. So whenever Jaskier got injured, Geralt promptly went ballistic. 

Except there was no enemy here for Geralt to hack into very tiny pieces, so he settled for the next best thing. Fussing.

Jaskier found himself swept onto the bed, placed next to Geralt amongst the pillows. The witcher loomed over him, poking and prodding the stitched area that curled from the corner of his eye up towards his hairline.

“It’s really nothing Geralt,” Jaskier attempted to explain, trying to at least settle the witcher a little bit and prevent him from aggravating his wounds. “Just a souvenir from the bandit attack, I didn’t even notice it had happened until we were all the way back here. Yennefer stitched it for me and I think she did a fine job all things considered. I might even get a cool scar from it all.” 

A particular sharp jab broke Jaskier from his rambling. 

“No scar.” Geralt growled, still fussing over his stupid cut like the fussy fusser he prentended not to be but totally was.

“Okay then fine, no scars allowed.” Jaskier rolled his eyes, “But I feel like I must inform you that there isn’t anyone left for you to hunt down and enact your vengeance for harming me. I’ve already killed them all.”

Silence fell over the room once more, and Jaskier tried his best to avoid Geralt’s probing gaze.

“What exactly happened?” Geralt asked, and his tone left no room for Jaskier’s excuses. The bard swallowed hard, and took a deep breath through his nose. His fingers fiddled once more with the bracelet on his wrist.

“So I might not be exactly as helpless as I’ve led you to believe. I know how to fight. With weapons. Hand to hand. When the bandits struck you down, I just… lost it. I took down the ones holding me, got ahold of a sword and fought my way through the rest. Then when I finally got to you you had lost so much blood, and so I bandaged you as best I could at the moment and rode as fast as possible to Yennefer. All caught up.” He continued to play with his fingers, too nervous to see the expression on Geralt’s face.

A large hand covered his own, gripping it tight. Shocked, the bard looked up. Geralt’s expression was fierce, though there wasn’t any anger hidden in his gaze.

“You did what you had to. You saved us, you saved me. Though I wish you had told me that you could fight. I would have spent a lot less time worrying about you throughout the years.” 

Jaskier let out a wet laugh that felt just a bit hysteric. 

“I’m sorry I never told you. I was just so determined to be normal that it never felt like the right time to say anything, and then I couldn’t anymore because it was too late.”

Geralt let out a small laugh of his own before realization took over his features.

“Do you realize the amount of time we could have been sparring Jaskier? We could have practiced together on the road, I could have made sure that your skills were sharp enough to protect yourself-”

Jaskier’s eyes widened in horror, he hadn’t foreseen this outcome but it was somehow worse than anything else. Suddenly visions of waking early and being forced to swordfight flashed across his face, of form and drills and no, nope, no, he had to put a spot to this immediately. 

“No Geralt I think that’s actually quite unnecessary, obviously my skills are quite sharp enough to defeat a bunch of bandits, I don’t need more practice, you know how I value my beauty rest-”

Their voices overlapped each other as Jaskier valiantly fought for his right to sleep past sunrise and Geralt highlighted the values of well honed fighting skills when a laugh sounded at the door.

“I see you two are both back to normal” Yennefer teased, leaning against the doorframe, “It just wouldn’t be right if you weren’t constantly arguing like a married couple.”

Jaskier groaned, allowing Geralt to wind his arm around his waist and pull him closer on the bed, firmly against his chest. It would be heaven if it wasn’t just for one thing. One person. 

Just because him and Yennefer were starting to be friends didn’t mean it would be sunshine and roses overnight.

“Go away Yennefer, we were having a moment.”

The witch rolled her eyes, “How very rude of you, bard. I just came to make sure you weren’t both making a mess of my room.”

Geralt muttered something under his breath about how technically this wasn’t even Yennefer’s house, and Jaskier couldn’t hold back his laugh. 

He watched Yennefer prickle a bit and restrain herself from acknowledging the comment. “Well then, if you don’t need anything else I’ll leave you to it.” She walked towards the door, and her hand was on the doorknob before she paused.

“Oh, Geralt, there’s probably something important you should know about your bard since he clearly still hasn’t fessed up, even though he promised.” A mischievous glint formed in her eye and Jaskier knew he was done for, damn the witch and her notions of what is ‘good and necessary information for Geralt to be aware of’.

A smirk painted itself across Yennefer’s lips after she so graciously gave Jaskier an apologetic look, the cad. 

“Jaskier’s an elf.” 

And the witch promptly exited the room, pulling the door shut with a bang and leaving Jaskier sputtering in her wake. 

He felt Geralt’s confusion lingering behind him in a shell shocked cloud.

“Jaskier- what?”

The bard groaned, sinking further into the pillows on the bed and burying his face into Geralt’s chest.

“I can explain, I promise….” Dreading the conversation to be had.

Fucking Yennefer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on making this into a series?
> 
> Come find me on tumblr, @innocentbi-stander

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so that was just a thing because I'm starved for BAMF Jaskier moments.
> 
> Let me know what you think or if you'd like me to turn this into a multi chapter fic!
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr! @innocentbi-stander


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